Castlevania: Celtic Twilight
by MegaManStarForceX
Summary: A vampire takes Europe over and it's up to three heroes from the English Isles to take Europe back. This fanfic's rating will be changed later on due to possible lemon (male x female btw) (lol jk no lemons!) and graphic content. I don't own Castlevania, but I do own this story. Now... Have at you!
1. Prologue-Chapter 1: March to Cork

Prologue

In the 500s A.D, a vampire by the name of Olaf Cuaran started a war to conquer his Nordic brothers' territories. Town and cities were destroyed. Countries fell one after another. Within the ruins of each fallen territory, no man, woman, or child remained. Those that survived were enslaved.

The children and women were either food for Cuaran's monster army or were household slaves. As for the men, they were drafted into Cuaran's army to serve as simple grunts. Years after his conquest of the Nordic countries, Cuaran decided to make a decision that would put him and his entire army at risk. He decides to wage war on the rest of mainland Europe. Once again, countries fell, people died, and prisoners were taken.

During his conquest of what is now modern-day Romania, Cuaran faced a foe which he thought would be a major thorn in his side. This foe was the fabled Belmont family. Sadly, Cuaran's power was too great and the Belmont's valiant struggle was brought to an end. Eventually, all of mainland Europe was in his control. He then turned his attention to the last four remaining free nations.

These nations were known as Ireland, England, Wales, and Scotland. In 689 A.D, England, Scotland, and Wales were taken. Ireland was the only one that remained. Finally, in 794 A.D, the attack on Ireland began. And Ireland, too, fell.

Shortly before Ireland fell, druids prophesized that three warriors from three great nations shall rise up and end Cuaran's reign of terror. Our story begins with the birth of one of the three heroes one night in Cork, Ireland in the year 840 A.D.

Night 1: March to Cork

The stormy skies matched my emotions well. My unit was on the road heading for my hometown of Cork. The lieutenant said that if the general's plan is successful, our retaking of the town would result in us gaining a foothold on that undead bucket of pond scum. I beg to differ. Other than my feeling of sorrow, fear is present.

I don't think we will last long fighting against beings of great power. Oh well, I guess it's worth a try.

"Oi!" The lieutenant called to me. "Conchobhar, _a fháil do cheann as do asal!_ (Conchobhar, get your head out of your ass!)"

" _Sea, a dhuine uasail_ (Yes, sir)," I reply in Gaelge.

" _Táimid ag beagnach Corcaigh_ (We are nearing Cork)," The lieutenant warns us. " _Bheith ar garda_! (Be on guard!)"

A couple of nervous coughs could be heard. It doesn't feel like I'm the only one who thinks this mission is intimidating anymore because of it. Fifteen minutes pass and my old home is in view. It's building are ash and full of burning fire.

We were too late. Suddenly, loud thumping could be heard. It drew closer and closer until a humanoid shape came into view. It was big, blue, wore simple white garbs, and had one eye shut.

" _Tá ag gach duine, a chur seasamh!_ (Everyone, take position!)"

We all got into a battle stance. Swords were drawn, archers took aim, and the tension thickened.


	2. Chapter 2-Chapter 3

Night 2: The Destructive Eye

I look at the giant and I could not believe the sight I was looking at. The enemy we were about to engage was the giant Balore. The giant's closed eye twitched. Realization hit me harder than I could describe.

" _Deartháir!_ (Brothers!)" I shout. " _Ní mór dúinn dul ar ais!_ (We must turn back!)"

" _Amadán, ní féidir linn a reáchtail!_ (Fool, we cannot run!)" The lieutenant shouted.

" _Bíodh nach chuala tú an scéal an_ _rud?!_ (Have you not heard the tale of this thing?!)" I say to him.

A beam of light shot through our line of troops. The sounds of the dying rang out and blood stained the ground.

" _Mínigh, Fola Gaelge Conchobhar..._ (Explain, Blood Celt Conchobhar...)" He said his voice quite grim.

" _Tá sé Balore,_ (He is Balore.)" I explain. " _Nuair a osclaíonn sé an tsúil, cibé áit breathnaíonn sé tharlaíonn scrios sa láthair._ (When he opens his eye, wherever he looks, destruction happens in that exact spot.)"

" _Feicim..._ (I see...)" He responds. " _Tá a fhios agam cad ní mór dúinn a dhéanamh._ (I know what we must do.)"

" _Ní maith liom é seo..._ (I do not like this..." I comment silently.

The lieutenant turns to the remaining troops.

" _Foirm trí ghrúpa!_ (Form three groups!)" He shouts. " _Beidh an lár ionsaí as an tosaigh! Déanfar na sciatháin chlé agus ar dheis ionsaí as an taobh!_ (The middle will attack from the front! The left and right wings shall attack from the flank!) _Is é seo an chéad cath fíor sa chogadh a thógáil ar ais Éire!_ (This is the first real battle in the war to take back Ireland!) _Taispeáin an bhastaird cad tá muid déanta de!_ (Show this bastard what we are made of!)"

The remaining soldiers clumsily got into place, but not in time. Balore swung his fist and knocked us all aside. I landed hard on my back and was stripped of all of the air in my lungs. Looking around gasping, I find all of my comrades mangled and broken. I regain the air I had lost and struggled to regain my footing.

" _Diúltáim a chailleadha thbhairt duit,_ (I refuse to lose to you.)" I manage grabbing a fallen comrade's _caladbolg_ (an Irish sword) and shield. " _Tá a fhios agam do scéal. Is féidir liom a úsáid an méid a fhios agam a scrios tú!_ (I know your story. I can use what I know to destroy you!)."

I charge Balore and run in a zigzag pattern to confuse the beast. His fists slam into the ground narrowly missing me each time. I remember what magicks I had learned from the Druids that took me in. I was taught not to use magick for violence, but this was an emergency that called for it. Focusing on the ground under Balore, I will spires of pointed tree trunks to emerge from the ground trapping him in place.

" _Scaoileadh dom, daonna!_ (Release me, human!)" Balore shouts.

I am silent. I leap onto one of the tree trunks and look down at him.

" _Tá mé Conchobhar Beccan! Tá mé Fola Gailge!_ (I am Chonchobhar Beccan! I am a Blood Gael!)" I shout. " _Beidh mé do cheannaire beannú tú ar an claiseannade Ifreann!_ (I wil have your leader greet you in the pits of Hell!)"

I leap off of the tree trunk and plunge the _caladbolg_ into the beast's head. His dying cry was an earsplitting howl that caused my ears to ring. Landing perfectly, I walk off into the dusk toward Cork. From here on, I will fight Olaf Cuaran's forces alone.

Night 3: The Rocky Road to Dublin

I pass through Cork, or what was left of it. Houses were burnt husks and the streets were barren without a soul in sight. If I am to fight alone, I have to go to where I will do the most damage on my own. My new destination is the harbors of Dublin. Once there, I will "borrow" a ship and make my way to the mainland.

Since he is Nordic, his base of operations will be located in Scandinavia. I ponder and continue walking northward. A pair of men suddenly appear out from behind a boulder. Based on their facial structure and how they spoke, I realized they were Englishmen. These Englishmen wore black and held daggers at their side.

"It is nigh unfortunate for thou to hast run into us," the tall one spoke.

"I would say the same!" The short one agreed. "I do say we 'ave a Celt in our presence! Should we do 'im like the others?"

"Whaddya eejits (Irish slang for an overly stupid person) want?" I reply. "I have no time for ye stupidity. Bother someone else."

"We 'ave a brave one 'ere!" The short one laughed. "Say, Winston, what'll we do with 'im?"

"I say we sever his tongue and strip him of his valuables," The tall one replies.

"I second that!" The short man smirked. "You shouldn'ta said a word. Now your aris (Cockney slang for one's rear; i.e. one's "ass") is ours."

"Step aside," I glare at the pair of idiots in front of me. "Ye knackers (an undesirable person) are wasting me time. If ye won't move, I will move ye."

"Smith," Winston was trying not to laugh. "I believe this knave hast threaten us with bodily harm."

"Seems so, Winston," the man's smirk became a grin and he removed his dagger. "We need to teach this mick (Derogatory word for an Irish person. Black people have the "n-word", Mexicans have the "s-word", and this one... this is ours.) some respect, yeah?"

"I believe ye two to be even denser than I gave ye credit for," I laugh myself. "I carry a _sword_ and ye have daggers. Ye two are thieves and I am a soldier. This will not turn out well for either of ye."

"Certainly explains thine garb," Winston points his dagger at me.

"He could 'ave took 'em from the dead _body_ of a soldier," he gets into a fighting stance.

"Ye both are about to find out whether I am what I say," I spit to the side. "I also want to make ye pay for that 'mick' remark."

I draw my blade. Then i had an ingenious idea. I look at the ground beneath them and vines keep them in place.

"What the 'ell!" Smith exclaimed.

"Drop ye weapons and I may let the two of ye pieces of shite (shit) live," I lower my eyebrows.

They drop their arms.

"Good lads," I say to them. "I'm going to ask ye both a question."

"Do make it quick, captor!" Winston said.

"Tell me if ye know anything about that arsehole (asshole) Olaf Cuaran," I tell them. "I want ye to tell me anything recent about him."

"Rumor 'as it that 'e is currently leading 'is conquest of Europe from a castle in Wallachia," Smith tells me.

"Where is that?" I ask.

"Wallachia is a province in Romania," Smith continues.

"I have one more question," I tell them.

"What dost thou want now?" Winston said.

"Did ye both get here from Dublin?" I look at the tall man.

"Indeed," Winston confirmed. "Tis a smoldering city now."

"What about the ships in the harbor?"

"Them too! Now let us go!"

I free them from their prison and proceed northward.

"Damn tosser!" Smith shouted.

I trip him with a vine.

"Gobshite bollocks-sucking lumps of shite (He's calling them "stupid ballsucking pieces of shit".)," I walk away.


End file.
